


Beside You

by fletchfeathers



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: (btw caitlin i fully expect this to become canon eventually), Eleir'Than, Fluff, Gen, a sprinkling of angst also because It's Me, platonic, sign squad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fletchfeathers/pseuds/fletchfeathers
Summary: This is how they spend many of their nights, now. Ril meditates while the others set up camp, and once rested she spends the rest of the night keeping watch; and, more often than not, Endymion will join her long after everyone has fallen asleep.
Relationships: Endymion Spring & Ril Arra'Xena
Kudos: 2





	Beside You

Endymion knows even before he falls asleep that this will be one of  _ those  _ nights. 

The day itself had been long and arduous, not helped by the pack of bandits that ambushed them as they were setting up camp for the night. Malik, of course, had made swift work of them, but not before they'd gotten a few decent shots in on the group – Endymion's shoulder and leg still ache from the crossbow bolts that found their mark, even with the group's collective healing magic. 

Magical healing is... strange – at least, it's strange to Endymion. Even with all his experience of drawing magic from the earth to both hurt and heal, he's never quite gotten used to having it used on him - with the lingering ghost of the pain, or the unique unpleasantness of feeling his skin and whatever internal damage had been done rapidly stitching itself back together before the relief kicks in. 

Absently, he massages the sore spot on his shoulder – it's not healed all the way yet, the skin still a little tender, but at least it's not bleeding any more – and glances around at the others. It's a hot, humid night, and Endymion can tell the others are feeling it just as much as he is. Malik, even as a silver Dragonborn, can't seem to summon enough of his icy breath to cool himself down, opting instead to sleep on top of his bedroll; Mardock, whose donkey half doesn't exactly lend itself to sleeping in a bedroll, is flopped on his side, his armour and pack in a messy pile beside him; and Vadania, despite his concerted efforts to act like the heat doesn’t bother him, keeps taking long glugs from his waterskin and splashing the cool water against the back of his neck with quiet sighs of relief.

(Endymion, for his part, has decided to at least forgo his shirt for the night, because no-one needs to smell that in the morning.) 

Which just leaves Ril, who is taking up her watch after her own brief rest. 

She doesn't sleep the way the rest of them do – she seems to go into a trance for a few hours, deaf and blind to the world, but when she comes back to the real world she always seems rested and raring to go again, so Endymion doesn't trouble himself with asking. He imagines it must be something unique to Drow, though he hasn't really met enough of them, even through the Silver Hand, to be able to say for certain. 

Still. She stretches, her leather armour creaking a little as she does, and wipes a few beads of sweat from under her white hair, already looking as uncomfortable as the rest of them feel with the heat. 

But her expression soon changes, and Endymion smiles fondly, when she spots the makeshift plate of food and the waterskin left out for her. 

He'd been lucky tonight – before the bandits had arrived, he'd managed to catch some salmon in the river that surges past their campsite. There was enough to feed them all, even Malik, for the night and save some for tomorrow's breakfast. (He'd bought bread in the last town, and it's been so long since he last had smoked salmon, probably not since – well, it feels like a lifetime ago, now.) 

But he watches as Ril glances around the camp before meeting his gaze, the corner of her eyes crinkling appreciatively as she takes the plate (which, really, is less a plate and more a smooth-ish piece of willow bark that ended up working just as well) and raises a hand to Endymion in thanks, going to sit and eat as she takes up her watch. 

Content with a job well done in at least that respect, Endymion flops on top of his own bedroll, gazing up at the clear, starry sky, breathing in the earthy smell of grass and summer flowers. 

And he tries - he really tries - to sleep. 

\- 

Following the bandit raid, everything seems pretty quiet as the others rest. The river nearby is steady, and Ril is fairly confident she’ll hear anything bigger than the chirping insects coming - so she takes up her usual nightly routine of removing each of her many various blades from where they rest hidden in her armour, cleaning each one carefully until the metal almost sings. 

But something shifts behind her, and Ril’s ear twitches briefly as Endymion comes to sit beside her, saying nothing, just staring into the glowing embers of the almost dead campfire. 

This is how they spend many of their nights, now. Ril meditates while the others set up camp, and once rested she spends the rest of the night keeping watch; and, more often than not, Endymion will join her long after everyone has fallen asleep. 

Sometimes he’ll talk to her, tell her stories, and she will just enjoy the sound of his low, lilting voice. Sometimes they’ll talk to each other with their hands, conversing silently while the others sleep. 

And sometimes - usually on nights like this, when he’s already been struggling to sleep - he won’t talk at all. He’ll just sit quietly beside her, lost in his own thoughts, and she just has to guess what’s keeping him awake, what has his kind, hazel-green eyes looking so desperately tired. 

Even with the sun long set, the air is still heavy and warm - not Ril’s favourite, typically, when she has to keep her dark clothes and armour on - and so Endymion is wearing only his breeches and boots when he joins her. Ril doesn’t mind - she knows it’s just because of the heat, and not anything more lecherous - and it’s one of those quiet nights, where he drops beside her with a heavy sigh and a half-smile, before his attention drifts. She sees the way he retreats inside himself, how his shoulders draw in and his eyes lose their focus, and decides maybe it’s best, for now, to let him think his thoughts.

Endymion's long, silver-streaked dark hair covers most of his rugged face, but Ril is surprised by the toned muscle that Endymion has been keeping hidden under his hide armour. It's not like Malik's strength – the way the Dragonborn's muscles strain under his silver scales is definitely impressive, boasting physical strength that Ril has seen put to good use against no end of miscreants and troublemakers. Malik could crush any of them with a swipe of a clawed hand, if he chose to, and all of them know it. 

She knows Endy isn’t weak, either - his strength is just … softer. Just two nights ago, he carried her on his shoulders with barely any trouble so she could catch the bats that skimmed low over the lake they were staying near, hunting insects in the late twilight. He'd been laughing then, almost glowing with happiness, and Ril's cheeks still faintly ache from the smile that she couldn't keep down. 

It's strange, how much it seems like a different person is sitting beside her now – especially when she notices it's not just muscle he's been keeping hidden. 

Endymion has a  _ lot  _ more scars than she had expected from someone who doesn't seem particularly prone to violence. Most seem pretty superficial, probably remnants of various altercations over the years; but more prominent are the two that score his back, running from the tops of his shoulder blades all the way down the length of his spine, deep and vicious-looking in the darkness. 

She burns with curiosity, wants to ask him, wants to touch. 

But Endymion sighs, pushing a hand back through his hair, and glances away from her, wrapping his arms around his middle. Ril pulls back the hand she'd barely noticed had started to reach towards him, feeling something sink in her chest. 

“I’m sorry, Ril,” Endymion says, and it startles her, almost. His voice cracks a little over the words, and he still isn't looking at her, but his sadness rolls off him in waves that are almost painful to be close to. “I – I’m sorry you keep havin' to see me like this.”

Ril frowns, tilting her head slightly to one side, before shuffling along the log she's perched on to nestle into Endy's side.  His skin is weirdly kind of cold despite the thick heat smothering the camp, but Ril presses in close anyway, and her own body heat soon warms what little space she fills. 

Eventually, she feels Endymion sigh before he wraps his arm carefully around her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I saw cats,” Ril signs, watching as Endymion's eyes dart across to her hands. “I think they're strays. We should catch one and keep it and call it Knives because cats have knives built in, and like, so do I, but cats are born with them so they're basically the Lady's greatest creation ever.”

Endymion does his strange nose-exhale-laugh, and a smile that might be leaning a little more genuine crosses his face as he absently strokes his thumb against Ril's arm. It's a sweet, affectionate gesture, and it’s oddly comforting.

“That they are,” he agrees, and she feels more than hears his words rumbling in his chest. “I'm sure we can get you a cat someday, Ril.” 

“You should get one too,” Ril replies. “A black one, like your wings. You can't call that one Knives because mine is gonna be Knives but maybe you could call it, like, Evander?”

Endymion freezes at that, the smile sliding from his face, and when he looks at her now she almost balks, because he looks …  _ haunted _ , in a way she’s never seen before. 

She’s seen a lot from Endy. She’s seen things that scare her from Endy - namely, the lifeless black eyes that accompany his skeletal, ragged wings, the way the colour drains from his skin like rainwater down a rooftop, and the air around him becoming as thick and rancid as smoke as they tear their way out of his back.

But this … this is new, and it almost scares her more. 

His eyes are too bright, too intense, as they search her face - not angry, just heavy, and she can feel herself squirm under the weight of it. 

“How do you -” Endymion says, his voice rasping, before he swallows thickly, trying to regain some composure. 

Ril quickly signs, “I hear you say it in your sleep when I'm on watch, I didn’t know it was a bad thing, I swear on the Lady I didn’t know, please Endy don’t be mad -” 

But Endy seems to soften, thankfully, and he reaches out to take Ril’s flurrying hands gently in his own. 

“It’s okay,” he says, and he sounds a little more like himself now, though when he smiles at her it doesn’t reach his eyes. ”It’s okay, Ril.” 

Ril’s heart still feels like it’s beating a little too fast, a little too fierce, in her chest, and she fucking  _ burns  _ with all the questions that threaten to spill out of her.  _ Who is Evander, what did he do to you, do I need to kill him, I’ll kill him if he did something to hurt you, no-one touches my Endy - _

But before she can begin to ask, Endymion just sighs, leans over to touch a quiet, gentle kiss to Ril’s temple, and gets to his feet. 

“I’m gonna take a walk,” he says softly. “I’ll be back soon. I won’t go far.” 

“Be safe,” Ril signs, unexpectedly genuine. “If you’re not back in half an hour I’m coming looking.” 

“Of course,” Endymion says, turning and walking slowly into the trees; and Ril watches his back, laced with those scars, as he disappears into the dark. 

And she waits, because he asked her to; but still, she worries.

-

Ril is just starting to get restless and impatient when the bushes on the other side of the river begin to rustle, and Ril instinctively goes for the handle of her dagger, expecting more bandits; but a small, dark shape slinks out from the foliage, followed by two more.

Ril narrows her eyes a little, quietly creeping down to the riverside, and gasps quietly when she realises what is happening. 

One black cat and one tabby cat stare back at her, eyes wide and green in the dark; and beside them, leading them to stepping stones, is a  _ very  _ distinctive third cat with dark, silver-streaked fur, its back covered with moss and small mushrooms. 

Ril’s eyes go wide as Endy, in cat form, leads the other two cats across the river, leaping lightly across the stones before trotting up towards Ril and, with a dull green glow, morphs back into his human self.

“Thank you,” he says, as the tabby purrs loudly and winds around Ril’s legs, “for keeping me company tonight.”

Ril, for once, is speechless. The black cat hops up onto the log, rubbing its head against Endymion's knuckles as Ril stares in disbelief. 

Endy fills the silence for her, carefully scooping up the tabby cat and putting it in her lap. 

“This,” he tells her, “is Knives.”


End file.
